


Steve Rogers and the Magic Massage Oil

by Molly_Ren



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Belly Kink, Feedism, M/M, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Tony Stark Is a Good Bro, Weight Gain, feederism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-01
Updated: 2016-06-12
Packaged: 2018-07-11 11:51:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 2,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7049365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Molly_Ren/pseuds/Molly_Ren
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve and Bucky go on vacation for the first time ever.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Mario Brothers

“You want us to be…  _ lab rats _ ?” Steve regarded Tony Stark with deep suspicion.

“Nope, animal testing’s done.” Stark had a completely straight face. “You and Bucky are the human trial.” 

Steve was about to go on his first vacation in… well, around 92 years. He was nervous about spending three weeks on a giant cruise ship with just Bucky for company, exhausted from a long day of tying up loose ends for S.H.I.E.L.D., and Stark had just handed him a bottle of “experimental” oil and requested that he not only  _ use it during the trip _ , but take notes on any “fun side effects.” 

Steve was feeling, in a word, testy.

“I am  _ not  _ taking  _ notes  _ on  _ vacation _ ,” he said, just in case Stark had misunderstood him.

When Steve’s angry face didn’t budge, Stark sighed and, finally, smiled in a way that made Steve realize that he might actually have been kidding about the whole taking notes part. “It  _ is  _ experimental-- something me and Bruce have cooked up--but we thought you could use it during your trip. Just follow the instructions on the label and have a good time.”

Steve could see that, in fact, the tiny bottle _did_ have instructions, including a blaring warning that it was for “EXTERNAL USE ONLY”. Well, that ruled out pretty much all of Steve's ideas of what Stark could do with it...

Speaking of: “What exactly _does_ it do?” Steve turned the bottle over in his palm. The tiny printed directions were no help, and the dark brown plastic of the bottle made it hard to tell what color it even was.

Stark smiled again. “That’s for me to know and you to find out. Have a good trip, and tell Bucky that it’s not a real cruise unless he does the Cupid Shuffle at least once.”

***

When Steve got home, he put the bottle in the medicine cabinet, vindictively determined to “forget” to pack it with his other things. He jerked his duffel bag out from under the bed, making a mental list of all the boring things he'd need to do before he could actually _leave_ \--

Then he stopped, feeling the bite of shame now that he was back in the apartment he shared with Bucky and could finally let his guard down properly.

Steve was discovering, much to his chagrin, that the day before what was supposed to be a much-needed rest was just another chance for him to stress out about all kinds of things. Like whether he could even manage being on a modern cruise ship with other modern people, who spoke in slang that he couldn’t understand, had confusing ideas about what was funny, and would be able to get drunk when he couldn’t.

Bucky, of course, had taken Nat’s plan for their vacation in stride. (Nat wasn't going with them, but she had booked this cruise for them after Steve said he had no idea where he wanted to go or what to do.) Steve could hear him playing on Nat’s (borrowed) Nintendo in the other room, an endless cycle of plinks and plonks and cheerful music. It was oddly soothing, and after he’d finished packing he went into the living room and put his head on Bucky’s shoulder. 

Bucky didn’t say anything (he seldom did) but he put an arm around Steve so he could continue to play and hold him at the same time. Steve shut his eyes, allowed his breathing to synch up with Bucky’s, and thought for the first time that week that a cruise might actually be fun. 


	2. Suntan Lotion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The cruise isn't so bad after all.

Cruise ships, it turned out, _were_ kinda fun. Surrounded by tourists, Steve and Bucky were no longer Captain America and the Winter Soldier but just two other guys in a vast sea of noisy people intent on fun. The weather was beautiful, there was a pool to swim in and endless drinks and delicious food, and the only structure their days had was when they woke up and when they went to sleep. Steve could sleep ‘til noon and eat nothing but popcorn all day, if he wanted. (He regretted saying this to Bucky, however, when Bucky gave an amused snort that indicated Steve's sense of hedonism had severely atrophied.)

On the second day, Steve discovered Stark’s mysterious bottle of oil in his shaving kit. He knew he hadn’t put it there. He brought it out of the tiny cabin bathroom to ask Bucky about it, only to find all his questions answered by his friend’s amused smile.

“You know,” said Steve, “I’m pretty tired of people giving me things to use on myself and not telling me what they’re for.”

Bucky wordlessly pulled his t-shirt up to expose his belly and gestured for Steve to put it on him instead, just as they’d been helping each other put on sunscreen every day.

Steve sighed, but he couldn’t say no to Bucky. He crawled onto the bed next to him and re-read the directions. "Just one drop, huh? Must be potent."

However, just because he was obediently rubbing the single drop of oil into the skin around Bucky's navel didn't mean he couldn't give an opinion. "If _I'm_ tired of this, I can't imagine how sick _you_ must be. Aren't you fed up with people in white c--"

He didn't get any warning except for a sudden pressure on the back of his head. Bucky had used his metal arm to shove Steve's face against his belly, and then held him there even when he sputtered and blushed.

Steve began to suspect that Bucky had an ulterior motive.


	3. Surveillance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve has fun speculating what Bucky's motives might be. (You can take Captain America on a cruise, but you can't expect him to have normal hobbies.)

Steve was now on fire with curiosity. 

He wouldn't, of course, do anything as straightforward as _ask_ Bucky what he was up to. That would ruin the fun. Instead, he went over the facts as he knew them as the two of them went through their daily routine of relaxation.

Steve was sure, by now, that the oil had in fact been Bucky’s idea, though Stark and Banner had created it. Bucky having a conversation longer than a few words with someone (outside of a dire situation) was, honestly, difficult for Steve to fathom at this point.  But he also knew from experience that, verbal or not, Buck was extremely good at getting what he wanted. Or, perhaps, he thought creating some kind of experience for Steve was worthwhile enough to reach out and talk more...?

The thought gave Steve a warm feeling. But for all his speculation, he still had no idea what the blasted oil even did. So every night he put the oil on Bucky’s tummy, and every day he watched him carefully for some kind of change.

Their days were kind of boring, honestly. Steve would have struggled to summarize them in a postcard to Nat (beyond "I saw a parrot on the tour today" and "Everyone is really nice"). But they were also somehow great. No one asked anything of him more complicated than what drink he wanted or if he needed more towels. They only people he talked to were his table companions at dinner, and the occasional 80-year-old woman who wanted to compliment him on what a nice young man he was. Once, moved by some impulse he didn’t fully understand, he went to a cooking class that showed you how to make Caribbean food and told Bucky all about it in the cabin later. Bucky listened with great interest as he methodically mowed his way through a huge plate of french fries he’d gotten from room service.

The only thing that changed from day to day, in fact, was that Bucky started to fill out.

Steve had, of course, shared small living quarters with Bucky before, from Brooklyn apartments to some very cold tents in Germany. But Bucky had seldom gone around these places wearing little more than black swim bottoms, or spent hours laying around on the bed reading mystery novel after mystery novel, seeming to invite Steve's perusal. So when Bucky's belly changed from completely flat to just barely convex, Steve noticed right away.

The changes in Bucky's body filled Steve with a quiet delight. For all of Bucky's post-Winter-Soldier mental and physical progress, his body had remained stubbornly marked by decades of privation. People's mouths might have fallen open with awe when Bucky, wearing a surprisingly stylish rash guard to cover his metal arm, had emerged lean and dripping from his daily swim in the pool, but Steve hated how sharp his hip bones were and how easy it still was to find his ribs. Now there was just a tiny bit of pooch around his belly, barely a handful of hard-won softness.

Steve still wasn’t completely sure if it was the oil, though. The anointing had become so routine by now that he had begun to wonder if the oil was in fact an elaborate excuse for Bucky to get more of the belly attention he craved. (Though if that was true, why bring Tony into it at all?) By the end of their first week on the cruise, the ritual wasn’t so much like helping a friend put on sunscreen as it was a chance to admire Bucky’s new body and exchange a lot of teasing kisses and playful grinding against each other. Still, the change wasn’t more than could be explained away by access to a lot of food and rest.

Then came the night Bucky drank an entire pitcher of beer.


	4. Beer Belly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve starts to get a linking of what the magic oil actually does.

He’d dared Steve he could do it, of course. The two of them had spent the evening at the ship's bar, "re-hydrating" after a zipline tour, and Bucky had been so uncharacteristically at ease that Steve was ready to indulge him in almost anything. So when their third pitcher of beer--big enough for at least ten glasses' worth--had arrived, and Bucky had said that it was "all for me", Steve wasn't about to deny him. They’d had so many beers already, Steve figured Bucky might, at best, get half it down and stop. At worst, he'd give up halfway through and puke over the rail, and Steve would hold his hair back and have ammunition to tease him with for the rest of the trip. 

What he wasn’t expecting was for Bucky to drink the whole thing as if it were a regular-sized glass of beer.

At first, Steve watched the floor show (a middling magic act). Bucky took long, steady droughts of the cool beer straight from the pitcher, stopping between each one to either belch or rub his belly. But after he’d been at it for five minutes with no signs of stopping, Steve found himself unable to watch anything else but Bucky’s progress.

The most astounding thing was that Steve could see Bucky’s stomach grow before his eyes. Each long swallow took a moment to fully travel down his throat to his stomach, and after each one Steve saw Bucky’s plump belly spread out a hair wider, bow out a hair further. By the time he was close to the bottom of the pitcher, Bucky wasn’t just soothing a plump belly but one grown over half again in size. 

Here he stopped for a bit, putting down the pitcher so he could use both hands to massage his jutting belly, so swollen that his shirt was beginning to ride up. Steve’s eyes couldn’t get any bigger at this point, but Bucky ignored him completely, as unconscious and focused as a cat with its own personal can of tuna. Bucky didn't even blush as he gave several deep, rumbly belches (he did, after all, have ten beers’ worth of carbonation to get rid of).

Finally Bucky swallowed the final fourth of the pitcher. He patted his stomach--now double the size--consideringly, then gave a comically small burp to finish off. Steve supposed there wasn’t room left for anything else.

***

Bucky didn't say anything about his new talent, even after they rolled back to their cabin. Bucky just flopped down on the bed, as smug as a fat cat that had gotten a whole bucket of cream, and let Steve do the hard work of unlacing his boots and helping him get his jeans off. And, of course, their nightly ritual of massage oil application.

That night, without even really thinking about it, Steve used two drops of the oil. Bucky did have a lot more belly to cover, after all.


	5. Steve's Revenge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> By now it's very clear what the oil does. Both of them enjoy themselves immensely.

The day after the beer drinking incident, Bucky's belly was less prominent but still very soft and swollen-looking. Steve pretended to be asleep so as to not be caught looking at it, but if the smug pat that Bucky gave it in his line of sight was anything to go by he failed miserably. Steve could fancy that he could still hear quite a lot of beer sloshing around inside it, but nevertheless Bucky went off to have breakfast as usual. 

When Bucky came back nearly two hours later, however, Steve wasn't able to pretend that he was still asleep. Bucky swaggered into the cabin with an enormously swollen gut bobbing in front of him, grown so round and taut with what must have been a feast of epic proportions that his t-shirt couldn't fully cover it anymore. When he stopped in the middle of the cabin for a joint-cracking stretch and that too-small shirt pulled up so far it exposed his navel, Steve didn't know where to look.

Fortunately, Bucky didn't care that Steve didn’t know where to look. When Steve remained frozen, Bucky helpfully climbed into the bed beside him, dumped the novel Steve had been reading onto the floor, and shoved Steve’s face into his gut again. 

In hindsight, Steve shouldn't have been so surprised at the fact that he ended up blowing Bucky on the bed, working Bucky's cock for all he was worth while he gripped handfuls of soft, gurgly belly. Bucky rested his heavy metal hand on the back of Steve's neck, and took all worship as his due.

***

Steve blessed Stark over the course of the next few days, though out of all the things he expected the oil to do, “triple Bucky’s stomach capacity overnight” hadn’t been on the list. 

Before the week was out, Bucky had gone from "average" to "plump" to "huge", and Steve meticulously chronicled the changes. Bucky's formerly hollow belly bowed out like a wrestler's, his thighs grew wide and heavy, and his bulging arm muscles were covered in a new layer of softness. He even began to get a bit of a double chin, which Steve found unexpectedly hot and endearing in equal measure.

Bucky, naturally, didn’t make any comments about his own body one way or the other. Steve would have thought him oblivious to his body’s changes if Bucky hadn't become even more single-mindedly focused on eating and drinking (it took a lot more to get his belly to look taut and round than it had the week before), wearing ever-smaller swimsuit bottoms, and wordlessly demanding tummy rubs every night. The one obvious thing Bucky _did_ do was go out and buy himself a very loud Hawaiian shirt after the ones he’d brought with him grew too tight across the belly. (For months afterwards, Steve had an embarrassingly Pavlovian response to Hawaiian shirts when he saw them in stores.)

***

Of course, even though the oil had been Bucky's idea, didn't mean that Steve didn't also get a chance to play.

Once, Steve rubbed Bucky’s tummy with the oil while he was still full--just one drop this time. Bucky had been lying full-length on their bed in the cabin, stuffed to the gills and groaning occasionally as his bloated belly labored to digest a mountain of food. So it only seemed natural that Steve would suggest a belly rub.

Almost as soon as Steve touched it, Bucky’s stomach immediately relaxed, going from balloon-round to flat on the front as the tautness eased. Bucky gave a surprised burp, and his stomach answered with a long, hungry gurgle. 

Steve was almost giggling at this result, punch-drunk with lust. “You know what I could go for?” he said as he gave Bucky’s swollen belly a final squeeze. “Chinese.”

“Yeah…” Bucky sounded surprised at himself, as it had been barely an hour since he’d waddled back from the buffet to torment Steve with his new belly. Then, his voice rising as his stomach gave a louder, more urgent growl, “Do they even  _ have  _ that?”

**Author's Note:**

> This was based on a 2 am conversation I had during Fat Avengers Chat. If you're a queer Marvel-loving feedist-minded person, [you might want to join us on Slack](http://iwritetheweirdstuff.tumblr.com/post/144046113372/chat-thing).
> 
> I also write original feedist fiction, which you can buy on [Etsy](https://www.etsy.com/shop/MollyRen) or [Kindle](http://www.amazon.com/s?ie=UTF8&page=1&rh=n%3A133140011%2Cp_27%3AMolly%20Ren).


End file.
